Saint Odd - Remixed Ending
by dougp
Summary: I love the character of Odd Thomas. Dean Koontz created a character that embodies everything a hero should be. Odd's journey was epic, but the ending of Saint Odd, in my opinion, failed to live up to its potential. I've reimagined the ending of Saint Odd, replacing chapters 51 and onwards. Please leave me a comment; constructive criticism welcomed.
1. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

He had been shot in the back, a pool of blood congealing beneath him. There was no need to check for a pulse; Taylor Pipes was clearly gone. He was a good officer, not deserving of this end.

I stepped over his body and surveyed the room. There were doors on either side, both slightly ajar. The walls were painted with various creepy-looking characters, rendered comical in the light from the overhead bulbs. Ahead of me was the ogre's head, in reverse, which served as the entrance to the fun house. Running from the back of his mouth was a tube, about the thickness of a garden hose, which led to a stainless steel canister, no doubt containing the rabies virus which the cultists intended to disperse onto the unsuspecting crowd. I immediately recognized it as the urn from my dream.

A noise from across the room startled me, and I whipped my head around to see from where it came. A gun appeared in the doorway, followed by an arm, and ultimately, the rest of Lou Donatella. He wasn't dressed in the bear cub costume, but instead in shorts and a dark-colored shirt.

"Odd, you in here?", Lou whispered.

"Yeah, over here," I answered.

Lou made his way over to me, staring hesitantly at the back of the ogre's head as he moved closer.

"It's not safe here," I warned.

"I know. Odd, I have psychic abilities. When we met I sensed you were in danger. I was led here, knowing I needed to help you, but from what I have no clue."

"Thanks, I may need it. Come help me figure out this contraption. I'm afraid if I can't make pancakes with it, I'm utterly clueless when it comes to these things."

We crouched next to the canister and inspected the setup. In addition to the hose from the ogre's mouth, a second hose led from the canister to what Lou explained was an air compressor. The cultists' plan materialized in my head instantly. They were going to release the virus via the ogre's breath blasts. The virus would spread silently through the crowd tonight. Everyone here would leave and infect anyone with which they came in contact, until they eventually succumbed to the virus. With the number of people infected tonight, it would spread quickly and efficiently. All of California could be infected and, in turn, the entire country and ultimately the entire human population.

"Be careful," I warned. "This thing contains a deadly virus. How do we dismantle it without getting blasted ourselves?"

Without saying anything Lou immediately went to work investigating the different components and fittings. His face set in concentration as he worked out which parts did what.

Finally he said, "We need to remove the canister from the air compressor, but not without closing off this valve." He pointed to a metal ring which encircled the tube leading from the compressor to the canister. "It looks like someone broke off the lever that normally does the job. We need a small piece of metal to slip in right here to turn the valve."

He started looking around the floor next to the compressor while I stood up and walked around the room. I picked up and threw down small pieces of trash, not content with their ability to help. Finally I found a long, thin screw, no doubt mistakenly dropped while assembling the fun house.

I handed it to Lou saying, "Will this work?"

Wordlessly, Lou skillfully angled the screw into place and, with trembling hands, closed the valve.

With a victorious smile on his face he said, "There, that should do it. Now let's disconnect this thing and get outta here."

I held the canister while Lou unscrewed connections to the tubes. Once free I held it close to me, wanting nothing more than to get it far away from this place and into Chief Porter's hands for proper disposal.

"Let's go," I said as I stood up, turning to leave.

"Wait," Lou replied. "Let's make sure they can't use this thing again."

He proceeded to break off bits and pieces here and there. Once satisfied he said, "Now let's go."

As we walked toward Taylor's body and the door through which I entered, a man walked confidently into the room from the opposite door through which Lou entered. He held a gun out in front of him, pointed squarely at Lou. Taken by surprise, neither of us had time to raise our guns at him before he fired a single shot, dropping Lou mid step.

I stood shocked, frozen in place. I watched as blood oozed from the hole in Lou's head.

"Drop the gun you dog," he hissed, swinging his gun towards me, his face twisted in a nasty snarl.

I dropped the Glock and held the canister tighter to my chest.

"Now put the bottle on the ground real slow."

"I can't do that," I answered.

"What do you mean you can't do that?" Shocked by my disobedience, his face morphed from snarled contempt to baffled incomprehension.

"I can't let you infect these people. They haven't done anything to deserve that."

His face recovered quickly and again hatred spread across his countenance. He started walking toward me slowly, gun raised menacingly at my face. "You will give me that bottle, whether you like it or not. You and all the other dogs will die. There's nothing you can do about it."

With uncanny quickness, he lowered the gun slightly and fired a shot at my chest.

It felt like being hit by a freight train, but I remained on my feet. I looked down and moved my hand, already bandaged and bloody, to below my ribcage, where the bullet pierced my body. Blood was flowing freely and the bandages on my hand were immediately saturated scarlet. In what felt like slow motion, I dropped to my knees, the canister slipping from my arm and onto the dusty floor. It rolled away from me, toward the cultist, while I slumped lower, landing with my face pressed against the floor, the scene before me fading in and out.

In a blur, I saw the man walk toward me, bend down to pick up the canister, and walk out of the door in which he entered.

I wanted to close my eyes and drift off to sleep. The act of keeping my eyes open seemed to be a task too difficult to achieve. I thought of Chief Porter and Ozzie Boone and Terri Stambaugh. I thought of Annamaria and Edie Fischer. In that moment, even despite their many faults and our complicated past, I thought of my parents. I knew I had to move and warn the Chief. Laboriously, I pushed myself up onto my knees. My head spun, feeling like I would pass out at any second. I balanced myself on my knees, willing consciousness to remain.

Leaving a smeared path of blood behind me, I crawled toward the ogre's head, the fun house's entrance. I pushed hard on the double doors until they relented and I spilled out down the ramp into the night air.


	2. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

The midway was packed with people. No one seemed to notice me crawling, stumbling to get to my feet. I managed to get to my knees before I was hoisted the rest of the way up by someone grabbing me under my arms from behind. I turned to see Blossom Rosedale holding me up, her face shining with concern, as in my dream.

I opened my mouth to talk but words wouldn't come out. I realized for the first time that I was struggling to breathe. My stomach burned from the the gunshot wound and every breath I tried to take was another adventure in pain. Somehow I was able to mutter, "Ch...ief...Por...ter."

I tried to take a step, but went down hard on my knees. Blossom picked me up again and awkwardly walked me in the direction of the Face It tent. The people around us must have started to realize that something was happening because they parted before us, making a path for us to easily navigate our way through the crowd. The bright lights and raucous noise faded in and out while I clung to consciousness. Dark shapes crept along my peripheral vision, weaving around us and throughout the crowd.

I must have blacked out because the next thing I realized I was laying on a table in the Face It tent, the hard surface from my dream. Also as from my dream, the faces of Chief Porter, Blossom, and Edie Fischer floated above me, stricken with grief and confusion. I felt hands tearing at my clothes and pressure being applied to my stomach, no doubt trying to stem the torrent of blood pouring from me.

I wasn't concerned about my stomach or the copious amount of blood I seemed to be losing. The world was quiet, even though I could tell everyone was shouting and crying. With my non-bandaged hand, I grabbed the Chief's shirt and pulled him toward me with my last remaining strength. I tried to speak again but the only sounds that would come out were low, guttural moans.

By reading his lips I could tell that Chief Porter yelled for everyone to shut up. He dropped his head and put his ear to my mouth. I managed to squeak out, "vi...rus" and "can...is...ter" and "eve..ry...one...will...die."

After listening, Chief Porter raised his head, appearing to be shouting orders to someone. My head swam and it was becoming harder and harder to fight the blackness that was threatening to take over within me. Chief Porter looked down at me once more and, if my lip reading was accurate, asked me questions like "Who" and "Where" and "How". I couldn't focus on him anymore, much less attempt to answer his questions. The dark, black shapes were now swarming. I closed my eyes, letting the blackness wash over me.


	3. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

The pain was gone. I found myself sitting on a bar stool at the counter of the Pico Mundo Grille. The sun was shining outside and not a single person was around me. I reached down to the wound in my stomach, but found only my white t-shirt, as clean and blood-free as the day it came out of the package. The front door was open, into which a cool, pleasant breeze was blowing.

With unwavering certainty I knew I was dead. Unsurprisingly, I wasn't scared. I knew this day would come. It's amazing I survived as long as I did.

I looked at the clock on the wall, which usually ticked away the seconds, minutes, and hours while I sweat over a hot griddle, now stood frozen, uninterested in marking the passage of time. The lights that usually flashed in the jukebox remained unilluminated. The grease in the fryer, in which I once cooked an abundance of french fries and chicken fingers, stood as placid as an afternoon lake on a windless, summer day. The only thing that moved, other than me, was the little bell on the open front door, jingling in the modest breeze. It seemed to be beckoning me outside, toward the bright light of a beautiful afternoon day.

I was now in that place where so many who have visited me found themselves. I needed to make a decision. I knew I couldn't stay here for long and, somehow instinctively, I knew my choices. I could walk to the door, outside to somewhere beautiful which I knew was inhabited by my Stormy. Or, I could walk into the kitchen, back to work where I was desperately needed. Chief Porter needed to find the cultist with the stainless steel canister before he was able to rig it up to another air compressor and release the virus. Even if the Chief was able to decipher my dying words, I doubted he could do anything useful with the information before it was too late. There were thousands of people along the midway, and dozens of places into which the cultist could have retreated to continue the task of infecting the citizens of Pico Mundo.

The Gypsy Mummy told Stormy and me that we were destined to be together forever. Just recently I asked her when that prophesy would be fulfilled. She imparted four blank cards for the four times I repeated my question. At the time I thought it meant that she didn't intend to keep her original promise or that the time I needed to wait was so small that it wasn't worth commenting on, but I now knew the truth: the cards were blank because it was entirely up to me. I could walk out that door and see Stormy, hold her in my arms and squeeze her. Or, I could go back and attempt to help Chief Porter thwart the cultists, thereby delaying my reunion with my soulmate and love of my life.

I knew now that the dark shapes I saw before I died were bodachs, swarming to relish in either my death or the unfathomable evil the cultists were attempting to release upon the world. I couldn't be sure which it was.

I looked longingly toward the door. Then, I turned my head and looked hesitantly toward the kitchen. With trepidation, I stood up and walked into the kitchen. I had unfinished business.


	4. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Back in the Face It tent I stared at my lifeless body. It was eerie watching the paramedics attempt to revive me. Little did they know their work was futile; I was already gone.

Chief Porter was standing by, watching the scene unfold while at the same time giving orders to officers passing through the tent, no doubt looking for the person who killed me. I needed to tell him what the cultist, who now possessed the canister, looked like. Unfortunately, the dead can't speak to the living, at least they didn't to me. I don't know why I possessed the ability to see dead people, but unfortunately Chief Porter lacked it. If he could see me I could somehow pantomime the information. But alas, I needed to think of an alternate way to get his attention and direct it towards the canister before it was too late.

The bodachs were swarming now. They took turns slinking around my lifeless body. They even wrapped themselves around the bystanders, drinking in their grief. If they saw the wraithlike me, they weren't interested. Apparently the decaying me was much more interesting.

I needed to do something more than just stand there. Without knowing how I knew, I realized that my psychic magnetism would work as a ghost. It dawned on me that all ghosts probably possessed some form of psychic magnetism, since they seemed to be able to find me easily. Picturing the face of my quarry, I concentrated on where he was.

When I was alive, and constrained by the laws of physics, it would sometimes take me hours or days of wandering to find someone or something for which I was looking. With my body relegated to being worm food, my ghostly spirit was immediately transported to a dark tent, where the lights and sounds of the midway were faint and muted.

In the corner, seated at a table were two men, their workspace illuminated by a small lamp. One of them was the man who shot me and made off with the canister. Before them were various tools and parts, tubing snaking down to an air compressor on the ground, and the stainless steel canister, enclosed within swirled the liquid containing billions of rabies virus particles.

Forgetting my current state of existence, I screamed at the men, "Hey!" They, of course, couldn't hear me and continued with their work.

I walked over to the table and saw that they had made good progress while I bled to death. The canister was again connected to an air compressor, a different, smaller one than the one Lou had rendered useless. The men were working to attach a nozzle to the output end of the canister. From the looks of it, they planned to make this iteration of their death-dispensing machine more portable, a hand-held, rabies-spewing, killing device. I guessed that they intended to walk down the midway, spraying the rabies mist and infecting as many people as possible.

I needed to get Chief Porter here as soon as possible. But where was the Chief? More importantly, where was I? It dawned on me that I didn't know where I was, that I had arrived here supernaturally. I exited the tent to get my bearings. The men were in a tent off the midway, in an area that was clearly not for marks. How could I get Chief Porter here? He and his men were focused on the midway, searching tent by tent for my killer. They wouldn't get here in time if I couldn't think of a plan fast.

Something within me stirred, something I had never felt before. It made sense, I was never a ghost before, but it resembled something familiar. It felt a little like anger, but somehow more intense and focused. Right now it was a small burning deep within. I was angry that these men may succeed with their plans and infect the people that I love. Letting the anger swell within me, I suddenly knew how I could attract Chief Porter to this place. I thought about Chief Porter, Ozzie, Annamaria, Rosemary, Terri, and all the other people back on the midway and I pictured them lying in graves. Lastly, I pictured Bob Robertson, Bern Eckles, Simon Varner, and Kevin Gosset, the men responsible for my Stormy getting shot at Green Moon Mall. The anger within me grew white hot. Back in my mortal days I was never one to succumb to emotions and act irrationally. But, the situation called for it now. I let the hatred and anger overtake me and I exploded in an ecstasy of frustration. I went poltergeist. I thrashed myself, uncontrollably, around and inside the tent. I didn't know what I was doing or if what I was doing would attract the attention of Chief Porter. The roof of the tent exploded upward. The temporary light poles erected around the tent flew into the air, sending sparks like fireworks high into the sky. The walls of the tent, along with the surrounding debris, swirled within my tornado-like fury, encircling and containing the men. I was growing tired, exhausted from the energy spent wreaking havoc on their impromptu workspace. As my fury began to fade, I saw people running towards us in the distance. I couldn't concentrate on them. I lost focus and drifted into what I can only describe as a dead sleep.

I awoke, vaguely aware of my surroundings. I don't know how much time passed, but I saw Chief Porter holding the stainless steel canister while two of his officers were handcuffing the men and putting them in the back of their squad cars. My work here was done.


	5. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

Again I sat perched on a bar stool in the Pico Mundo Grille. This time, the choice was easy. I ran through the front door, my feet barely touching the floor.


	6. Chapter 56

Chapter 56

The Grille was gone. Instead of a Pico Mundo afternoon, I was surrounded by trees on all sides. They were unlike any trees I had seen before, certainly not any species native to California. Their bark was dark grey with slivers of faintly glowing blue specks. Their towering trunks, reminiscent of redwoods, supported massive branches with dark green leaves, high up in the air. The sun shone through in streaks of kaleidoscopic radiance. Brilliant colors, shades both familiar and new, flashed within the beams.

I took a deep breath. My lungs swelled with the cool, sweet air. I never thought air could smell and taste so delicious. It was an undeniably outdoor scent, but far sweeter and purer.

I stood frozen, intoxicated by overloaded senses. Something whizzed past my head, piercing the dead silence. I spun around, but didn't see anything. A moment later something else buzzed near me and this time it planted itself into the tree next to me. It resembled an arrow, but organic in nature. It was short, perhaps about three inches, crimson and chestnut in color with a black tip. Shuffling noises, moving towards me, came from a short distance away. I didn't hang around to see to whom they belonged. I took off running in the opposite direction.

I weaved among the gigantic trees, through various unusual bushes and brambles. I glanced back over my shoulder, checking to see if anyone, or anything, was close on my heels. In that instant my shoe caught on a protruding root and I went down fast. I managed to throw my arms out in front of me just in time, absorbing the brunt of the impact with them and my right shoulder. My white t-shirt, pristinely clean when I got here, was now smudged with mud. The mud was brown and looked like the same brown mud we had in Pico Mundo; I guess brown mud is the same everywhere you go.

I started to push myself to my knees when something caught my eye. To my left were bushes, about two feet tall, with thick, gnarled branches. One set of branches, barely off the ground and concealed by large fern-like leaves, twisted in the shape of a handle. From this low perspective it was clear the handle was unnatural, formed by someone or some thing. I knew I didn't have much time before whatever hurled the mini arrows was upon me. Out of desperation more than anything else, I lifted up on the handle, causing the entire bush to pivot upward, revealing a small burrow underneath. Without thinking I shuffled into hole and lowered the bush over me, blocking out the light entirely.

Within seconds I heard movement above and around me. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped. I held my breath, fearing even the faintest of noises would draw attention to my hiding spot. Lifting the bush to reveal a sliver of light, I stole a glance at what pursued me.

Two creatures, about the size of golden retrievers, crawled through my field of vision. Their bodies resembled beetles, iridescent red which faded darker to inky black down their insectile legs. Curling upward from their rears was a scorpion-like tail, tipped with a bright red stinger.

I lowered the bush slowly and remained dead still in the darkness. I'm not sure how long I rested in hiding; my perception of time was disjointed in this strange place. When I was sure the beetle-scorpions had put enough distance between them and me, I tentatively raised the bush and scrambled out onto my feet. The sky had faded to a blueish-purple hue. I walked in the direction from which they came, hoping not to cross their path again.

I traveled along for what seemed like an hour, but could have been more. From behind me a voice rang out, "Odd, is that you?"

I spun around quickly and saw a young girl and boy running toward me. I recognized the girl immediately; her name was Penny Kallisto. In the first account of my adventures, I helped Penny bring justice to Harlo Landerson, the man who raped and killed her. She had appeared to me as a ghost then, unable to talk. Now, that limitation seemed not to exist.

Jumping into my arms, Penny choked out, "Thank you. I don't know what I would have done without your help."

With my arms wrapped around her, I replied, "Hey Penny. It was an honor to help you. I'm sorry for what he did to you. You didn't deserve that."

Letting me go and taking a few steps back she said, "We've been waiting for you Odd." She motioned to the boy standing next to her, "This is Jack."

I offered my hand to Jack and he shook it. "Hi Jack, nice to meet you." I turned to Penny and asked, "Waiting for me? Why?"

Penny answered, "You helped a lot of us to cross over here, now we need your help again."

"Where _is_ here, by the way?"

"I'll let Stormy explain that to you. She's going to be so happy to see you."

"Stormy is here?! Where is she?"

"We'll bring you to her. But first we need to get you changed so you're not such an easy target for the chaerilagas."

"Chaerilagas? Is that what you call those red and black things with the big tail?"

Jack spoke for the first time, "Yeah, they are the sentries. They patrol these forests, working for the dark people. They're nasty little devils. You don't want to get shot by their darts."

Dark people? I had a million questions but I didn't want to waste any more time. I wanted to see Stormy, to hold her in my arms. "Let's get out of here," I offered.

Penny and Jack were dressed in black long-sleeved shirts and black pants. They pulled their dark brown packs off their backs and started rifling through them. Jack pulled out a black shirt and Penny pulled out some blacks pants.

Penny said, "Put these on. And rub some mud on those white shoes until we can get you some boots."

As instructed, I pulled on the shirt and changed into the pants. I sat down and grabbed a handful of dirt. Smudging it onto my shoes I asked, "How far are we from Stormy? How long will it take to get to her?"

"We aren't far," Jack answered and lifted his head toward the sky. "But, we probably won't get there before it gets dark. We need to get moving so we're not out here when the chaerilagas really start swarming. We were going to hunker down before we saw you. It's not wise to roam around at night."

"We'll be fine," Penny said. And with a smile she added, "We need to get you to Stormy. Let's go."

We started off, single file with Penny in front and Jack behind me. Stopping from time to time, Penny would pull out a bottle of water and share it with me. They walked in silence and, fearful of drawing attention to us, I remained quiet as well. As the sky turned darker the blue specks in the trees grew brighter. There was no need for flashlights; the ambient blue glow was more than adequate to light our way.


	7. Chapter 57

Chapter 57

Penny froze; I nearly bumped into her before coming to a halt myself. "What's wrong?" I asked.

She shushed me and offered no more information. Her gaze was set on a spot ahead of us and to the right. I focused my eyes, trying to perhaps see something that she had.

The sky was pitch-black, not a single star broke up the incessant darkness. The trees with the blue particles were less dense here and therefore provided less light with which to see. I could barely make out Penny's face, but I could tell she was frightened. She reached back and grabbed my arm.

The silence was broken by Jack's scream. Penny immediately pulled me down to the ground. Her grip on my arm tightened.

"I'm hit!" Jack hissed through clenched teeth. "Oh God it hurts. Penny they got me."

With Penny still holding fast to my left arm I reached out to Jack with my right. In the darkness, he was a gray blur writhing on the ground next to me. I managed to find Jack's arm and pull him along the ground next to me.

Penny whispered, "Where are you hit?"

"In the shoulder. Penny, it hurts!"

"I know Jack. We need to get somewhere safe. They'll be here any second. Can you crawl?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Ok, this way," Penny said commandingly as she started shuffling along on the ground, like a soldier avoiding low-hanging barb wire.

Jack followed her and I crawled behind him. He made it a few feet before he collapsed face first into the ground, a painful "umph" sound forced from him lungs. I helped him up and carefully wrapped his injured arm around my neck. We crawled together for another twenty feet or so until Penny pulled us both into a small ditch, with sides high enough to provide cover. I propped Jack up against the wall and took my place between him and Penny.

I could hear Jack breathing next to me, hissing in pain every few seconds. I didn't know with what Jack was hit nor how painful it was, but he was taking it like a trooper. The ground in the ditch underneath us was damp and hard. Small multi-colored glowing rocks littered the ground.

As I was contemplating the strangeness of this place, Penny leaned in close to me as whispered, "It's got to be more chaerilagas. I bet they hit him with one of their spikes. They're poisonous. If we don't get him back to the camp soon he's not going to make it."

"What do we do," I asked, listening for any approaching creatures. Strangely, I heard no movement above us.

"They're out there, waiting for us to move. Thankfully, they aren't very patient. They'll move first. When they do, we need to hit them. We have weapon caches all over these woods, usually under bushes, but that's not going to help us in this ditch."

It hit me that I must have taken cover in one of those caches when I eluded the chaerilagas earlier. I needed another serendipitous discovery now. I felt around along the base of the wall, searching for anything that could be used as a weapon. A few feet away from us I found several large stones, ranging from the size of baseballs to basketballs. An idea hit me and I quickly relayed my plan to Penny.

I slowly ascended the far side of the ditch, hoping the darkness provided me enough cover to put my plan into motion without becoming a chaerilaga pin cushion. I found the nearest tree and, as quietly as I could, climbed up and out onto a branch perched about 10 feet off the ground. With my legs wrapped firmly around the branch, I unshouldered the heavy backpack and placed it in front of me. I slowly unzipped it, hoping the noise didn't travel far. I heard, instead of saw, Penny accomplishing her part of the plan. Noises like scared, shuffling humans, came up to me from the base of the tree. I didn't specify to Penny how to attract the chaerilagas to my position, but whatever she came up with worked perfectly because, from a direction near where Jack still hid, two of them creeped slowly towards the tree, tails raised up ready to shoot their poisonous darts. When they were immediately below me I dropped a watermelon-sized rock directly on one of their heads. A nauseating crunching noise suggested my aim was impeccable. No sooner had the first chaerilaga's brains started leaking out when the second one started firing its darts at me. I fumbled for the next biggest rock in the backpack and heaved it at the disgusting creature. Expecting the air assault this time, it backed up and easily dodged my throw. I began hurling the remaining orange-sized rocks with reckless abandon, hoping less to hit it and more to scare it away. Distracted by my barrage of ill-aimed rubble, Penny was able to sneak up behind it and bash it in the head with a large, heavy branch. It let out a horrible ear-piercing screech and slumped unmoving to the ground.

I quickly climbed down the tree and joined Penny near the crumpled creatures. They were clearly dead. She looked at me and said, "We better get out of here. That cry is sure to attract more of them."

She didn't need to tell me twice. We ran back to the ditch and found Jack slumped over unconscious. I picked him up and threw him over my shoulder. Thankfully, he wasn't a big guy or else he'd have been screwed.

We continued our trek through the night, praying that we didn't run into any more surprises.


	8. Chapter 58

Chapter 58

The trees around us grew denser, making it harder and harder to navigate, especially since I was toting Jack in a fireman's carry. The canopy of the trees completely blocked out the night sky now. Looking up, I couldn't discern anything higher than twenty or thirty feet.

Just when I was about to ask Penny for a break, she abruptly stopped in front of a massive tree with a trunk as thick as a Volkswagen Beetle. In the blackness the blue specks glowed radiantly. Penny put her hand to one of the larger slivers, around eye level, and gently pushed, curling her fingers downward as she did so. She then pulled on the bark and a door swung outward silently, revealing an opening barely larger than a kitchen cabinet. She turned back to me and said, "Wait here while I lower the hoist. Get Jack in it and then tug on the rope three times. I'll pull him up. Then you come up the stairs."

Before I could ask any questions she was crawling inside the tree and out of sight. After about thirty seconds a small platform descended from the overhead gloom. It wasn't large enough to fit Jack's entire body, but I managed to get him on it in a position that I hoped distributed him weight evenly. As instructed, I tugged on the rope three times and watched as Jack was slowly raised into the air.

I waited a few seconds to make sure he wasn't going to fall off, and then I turned my attention to the empty space in the tree. As Penny had done, I climbed through the small opening and into the trunk of the massive tree, closing the door behind me. There was no ambient blue glow in here, but a soft orange light trickled down from directly overhead, illuminating stairs winding up the perimeter of the trunk. It was spacious enough for me to stand and I slowly ascended the stairs towards the inviting light.

At the top of the stairs was a similar cabinet-sized opening in the trunk. I got on my hands and knees and crawled out. The scene in front of me was awe-inspiring. Describing it as anything less than a treetop city would be doing it an injustice. Orange lanterns lit rope passageways between small houses with thatch roofs. Here and there people bustled about purposefully.

Penny was standing next to me, watching me absorb my new surroundings. She asked with a smirk on her face, "Impressed?"

Indeed I was, but I couldn't seem to speak any words. I merely stood there, mouth agape with wonder. This place was magnificent. In my pre-death existence, my sixth sense afforded me certain abilities. At times I would get a feeling when evil was imminent or when an object had been used with ill-intent. The feeling that arose within me was the complete opposite. This place was life. It was light. It was good.

Regaining my composure I asked, "Where's Jack?" I just realized he wasn't anywhere around us.

"They already took him to the infirmary," Penny answered. "I think he'll make it. I've seen people in worse shape than him make it. Want a tour?"

I did want a tour; I wanted to see every inch of this place. But there was something else I wanted more. "Can you take me to Stormy?"

With a smile she said, "Of course I can. She's this way." Penny started walking across the rope bridge ahead of us and I followed close behind her. Upon closer inspection the lanterns weren't lit by fire, but with a small stone that glowed bright orange. The rope bridge neither swayed nor creaked. It was as sturdy as a stone bridge; the craftsmanship was impeccable.

We walked across bridges, down ladders, up ladders, and through houses. I was greeted like a conquering hero by everyone we passed. Vigorous handshakes, firm pats on the back, and warm embraces. Like Penny, most of the occupants here were people I had helped cross over. I recognized former spirit acquaintances from years back.

We came upon a small hut, perched high in the branches of a large tree. Penny turned and hugged me tightly. With tears in her eyes she thanked me again and walked away.

Warm orange light emanated from a small window to my left and from a crack under the door. My stomach churned with millions of butterflies performing a choreographed dance number. With a trembling hand I lightly rapped on the door. A familiar voice responded from within, "Come in."

I opened the door and stood transfixed. Death did nothing to diminish the beauty of Stormy Llewellyn. She turned her head in my direction and her jet-black hair glowed in the orange light. Her dark eyes shone radiantly and, as recognition dawned on her, the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen stretched across her face. We moved toward each other, colliding in a glorious embrace.

With her arms still wrapped around me, she took her head off my shoulder and looked me in the eyes. With a tear rolling down her beautiful face she said, "Hey odd one. I've missed you so much."

Not to be outdone by her single tear, a veritable flood of salty water streaked down my face. I blubbered, "It's really you."

"Of course it's me, griddle boy. Are you going to kiss me or what?"

I cupped her radiant face with both my hands and pressed my lips to hers. It felt both familiar and brand new at the same time. It felt like my life. It felt like my destiny.

Coming up for air I said, "I'm so happy to see you. It feels like it's been an eternity."

From a corner of the room someone cleared their throat and, with another familiar voice, spoke, "Hey Odd."

I whirled around and saw Annamaria seated in a chair, her legs propped up on a table, an enigmatic smile spread across her face.

With great concern, I stammered, "Annamaria! What...are you doing here? What...happened to you?"

Stormy grabbed my hands and with a soothing voice said, "Calm down Oddie, nothing happened."

Confused, I said, "Then...how are you here?"

Annamaria put her feet on the floor and stood up. Her stomach lacked the perennial signs of pregnancy with which I had grown accustomed to seeing her. I was really confused now.

Walking toward me and following my gaze, Annamaria said, "No, I'm not pregnant here Oddie. I'll explain everything."

Giving me a kiss on my cheek, Annamaria took one of my hands from Stormy and led me to a chair. "Sit down. Let's talk."

Stormy poured us all cups of water as we sat down around the little table in the hut. Not realizing I was thirsty I drank down the cup in one gulp. Stormy promptly filled it again and this time I took smaller sips.

Annamaria began her tale. "Odd, I'm old. Very, very old. I've been conscripted into this world to serve the VTs." When she saw the confusion on my face she elaborated, "Sorry, Vision Trustees. Odd, you weren't the first to possess the sixth sense and you won't be the last. I believe you met a young British boy with whom you spoke of the creatures you call bodachs."

I replied, "Yeah, it didn't end well for him. He was crushed by a truck."

Stormy chimed in, "You suspected that if they ever knew about your gift you'd be targeted. You were right!"

Annamaria continued, "Exactly. You were right to be wary of them. They are actually creatures very similar to myself, except playing for the other team, so to speak. Like me, they can cross between planes of existence. But, unlike me, they do it not to help, but to relish in the atrocities committed by men. You'll learn more about them in due time, but back to you. Odd, the VTs are given sight to provide comfort to the lingering dead, a job you instinctively assumed and performed admirably. Some VTs require constant assistance from beings like me, but not you. I appear in a form that best serves the individual VT. I once was a dog to young Canadian girl who needed only a companion during her forays with the non-living. You, dear boy, needed a mother, so I appeared to you as a pregnant woman. Here, I am manifesting as a woman for your and Stormy's benefit. It makes it easier to have a conversation." This last comment caused her to giggle but neither I nor Stormy got the joke. She went on, "I am aware of the bond you two share so I befriended Stormy in this place soon after she arrived. I knew that by getting to know her, I would get to know you better."

Stormy said, "It was great to get news about how you were doing Oddie. Annamaria told me about the things you've been up to. Helping Danny, St. Bartholomew's, Magic Beach, Roseland, rescuing those kids from the cultists, and then, well, the carnival." Her voice cracked when she mentioned the carnival; she seemed not to want to talk about my death, so I didn't press the issue. Regaining her composure she added, "You've been busy!" Squeezing my hand she said softly, "I'm so proud of you Oddie."

I returned the squeeze and, embarrassed, I changed the subject, "So what now? What is this place?"

Stormy brightened and said, "Remember what we said about Boot Camp and Service?"

"Off course I remember."

"Well, I was right! Our life on Earth was preparation for the work awaiting us here. We have to earn our eternal reward. This place is amazing. I can't wait to show you everything! Of course there are nasty things like the chaerilagas and the dark people, but there are glorious things too. It can be hard work sometimes, but we have fun as well. There are other camps like ours. We've built a fairly safe camp here in the treetops. The chaerilagas don't climb very well nor do they seem smart enough to think we could be hiding above them, just out of sight. Every now and then we'll be discovered and have to move on and settle somewhere else. There's an underground settlement not far from here, but I think they have to deal with the chaerilagas much more frequently than we do. The people here are great. You'll know most of them. You helped them cross over. I think they are somehow drawn together. Or to me. I don't know. The other camps I visit don't seem to have anyone that knows you, but here your name is spoken with love and reverence. You helped a lot of people Odd."

"I did my best. I wish I could've stopped them from getting killed in the first place."

Annamaria offered, "Young man, you can't hold back the tide of evil. You can only hope to rise above it. You are an amazing vessel, buoying yourself and others above the hate and violence."

Stormy noticed the tears welling in my eyes and, thankfully, offered me reprieve, "You want to take a walk Oddie?"

"Yeah, that would be great." Standing to leave I asked, "Annamaria, do you visit here often? Will I see you again soon?"

She replied, "Oh yes. I'll be around. I still have work here to do."

With that I gave her a big hug and said, "Thank you Annamaria."

"You're quite welcome Odd."

As Stormy and I walked to the door something popped into my head. "Uh, Annamaria?"

"Yes?"

"Can you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"I'd like for Ozzie Boone to receive my final manuscript, that is if I get a chance to write it here. Do you think you could deliver it to him for me?"

Annamaria looked at me with a grin, "I'd be delighted to pay him a visit for you."

With that, Stormy and I walked out the hut. I couldn't believe I was finally here. My reunion with Stormy always seemed like something that was going to happen in the future. But, the future had arrived. _Our_ future had arrived. I knew we had challenges ahead of us, but with her by my side I felt like we could accomplish anything.

Hand in hand we silently walked for some time. I couldn't tell if it was five minutes or five hours. There were things about this place that needed getting used to. If the usually reliable passage of time couldn't be counted upon here, then what other surprises lay in store for me? Whatever it was, the knowledge that I would face them with Stormy left me not apprehensive, but enthusiastic.

I thought the direction of our slow stroll was random, but apparently not. We came upon a small hut spilling raucous, cheerful voices out into the night. With her hand on the door Stormy said, "I have a surprise for you, odd one." She pushed the door open and invited me in with a wave of her right arm.

When I walked into the hut, four faces simultaneously turned to look at me. Seated around a poker table were Elvis Presley, Frank Sinatra, Alfred Hitchcock, and Granny Sugars. With a smile so bright I thought it would blind me, Elvis said, "Hey Odd, have a seat. Boy, do we have a bunch to talk about!"


End file.
